


gospel truth iv

by only_partly



Series: gospel truth [2]
Category: Men's Hockey RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - Mythology, D/s elements, M/M, Magical Realism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-02
Updated: 2019-10-02
Packaged: 2020-11-15 08:31:23
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,954
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20863280
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/only_partly/pseuds/only_partly
Summary: There’s a beautiful irony in Ovi being the king of the gods and also the one on his knees, gazing up at Nicklas like he himself is divinity in the guise of thick shoulders and soft hands and a sour mouth.





	gospel truth iv

**Author's Note:**

> I started writing this (you guessed it!) right after the quick playoff exit(s) but only just now finished it. Thank God hockey's back it's been so long since I've been able to feel emotions.

There’s a beautiful irony in Ovi being the king of the gods and also the one on his knees, gazing up at Nicklas like he himself is divinity in the guise of thick shoulders and soft hands and a sour mouth.

Part of this might be because Sasha’s dick is currently locked in a cage to which Nicke has the only key, and in addition to the cold metal bars keeping his cock soft he also has a generous sized plug in his arse working to keep him hard.

Ovi had asked for it, quite literally, going to his knees for Nicke the night after their last game of the season, and begging to do penance. The suggestions that had poured out of him were familiar from too many years where they hadn’t made it past the first round, but this year is - different. The mantle of despair he’d worn about him like a cloak has lifted with the success of last year, and muffled pleading for whips and chains lacked the real agony of before.

Still, though, Nicklas knows better than most how cleansing a metaphorical or literal flagellation can be, and so he ties Ovi spread eagled to their bed, slides a cock ring on him, and rides him until Sasha is crying in huge sobbing gulps. He lets him come after two hours of alternating his arse on Sasha’s dick and mouthing up and down Sasha’s thighs and across his stomach, thinner after the playoffs, and almost as soon as he’s come down from his orgasm he’s fetched a cloth and the cage and is tucking Ovi away.

He calls Geno once Sasha is asleep. “He wants more,” he says, bluntly. They haven’t had any time, all four of them together, since playoffs started. Whatever this is, whatever they are, they haven’t wanted to interfere with hockey, and gods know after the Pens got swept neither of them were in any mood to do much besides jerk each other off sulkily. “Is a plug in all day tomorrow going to be too much?”

“You already have him locked up?” Geno asks, sounding grumpy but in a sympathetic sort of way.

“Obviously.” 

“I have Sid on knees almost every day since we go out. He keep doing. Thing with head. Not stop thinking.”

“Anxiety?” Nicke asks.

“Sure. Try and do more but other day he come home very mad about some bullshit he read online about GM trade me.”

“You have a NMC.” Nicke says blankly, “They can’t trade you unless you want.”

“You think I don’t tell? He still get mad and go yell at people and then come back and sulk.”

“You both have been sulking for weeks.”

“He turn down blowjob.”

“Okay, that’s pretty bad.” Nicke pauses. “They’re - not trading you, are they?”

“No.” There’s a noise on the other end, water running, and then the familiar sounds of Geno swallowing. “Sid just - he upset about season, I think.”

“I’m familiar with the feeling.” Nicke mutters. “Okay, so plug all day not too much?”

“Might need breaks.” Geno says, “He have press?”

“Yes.”

Nicke can hear the grin, devious, through the phone, as Geno says,

“Get vibrate one.” And hangs up.

* * *

Sasha lasts three hours, three hours of one of the larger plugs in his arse and Nicke leaning against a wall absorbed in his phone and turning up the intensity at random intervals.

Ovi is going to Russia in less than a week to play for Worlds. They’d argued about it, maybe, just a little, and it’s not - Nicklas isn’t taking revenge or anything, but. If Ovi can’t take a couple hours of edging maybe he’s not in peak physical shape and ready to go right into another two months of rigorous hockey,  _ Sasha _ .

The argument had been half-hearted, though, because short of something career threatening, Ovi and Geno were always going to go play for Russia. Nicke will admit that before Ovi could finish his sentence with ‘Russian machine never breaks’ he gagged him and sat on him for forty minutes while he watched a terrible couple make terrible decisions about their renovation. He understands that Ovi has to play when he doesn’t  _ have _ to play, on the surface, but he’s allowed to be upset about it. That’s  _ his _ ancient demi-god to break, after all. Not Russia’s.

After two hours and change, Nicke makes eye contact with Naomi, who nods at him and ends the press availability. Ovi is wide-eyed as he comes back to Nicke, pupils blown wide and gait uneven. “Home?” He asks, hopeful.

Nicke glances down to where Ovi would be visibly hard if he weren’t caged and smirks. “Sure. Unless you want to drive to Pittsburgh, maybe. Wait for the others before I turn it off?”

Ovi bites back a whimper. “Nicke, please.”

“Okay, okay.” Nicke cups a hand over the back of Sasha’s neck. “Since you so good for me. Come on.”

But since Ovi asked for it, literally, Nicke takes the long route home. 

At home, in their bedroom, Nicke heads at once for the couch and drops down onto it. He hardly has turned his head to look for Sasha when he’s there, dropping to his knees like the secret to regaining immortality is between Nicke’s thighs. Nicke cradles the heavy head in both hands, holding Sasha back from reaching for Nicke’s dick, and tilts his head up. “Is the plug okay? No chafing?”

Sasha shakes his head, straining a little against Nicke’s grip, and Nicke grasps a fistful of thick silvering hair in one hand and pulls until he’s sure he has Ovi’s attention. “Enough. You get my cock when I say you can have it, and right now I’m not so sure you deserve it.”

“Nicke,” Sasha whines, his hands twitching where they’re obediently laid on his thighs, “Please, so long since you let me suck you off, just let me have small lick even, please.”

“It’s been two days, Sasha,” Nicke shakes his head. “Besides, this is what you asked me for, remember?”

“Ask you lock away me, not you,” Ovi grumbles, but he settles back on his heels, as patient as he ever is.

Nicke strokes a thumb down the side of his face in approval and doesn’t reprimand him when he turns his head enough to kiss the tip of it. “I’ll let you have it,” he says, “But first I want to watch some TV.”

He can see the effort it takes Ovi to bite back a retort, and he smiles to himself as he picks up the controller. Ovi isn’t bothering to turn around, choosing instead to nuzzle his face into the crease of Nicke’s knee, as though getting as close as he can to any part of Nicke is going to give him enough strength to last until he can have his cock. This makes it much easier for Nicke to turn on the screen and navigate quickly to Skype. Geno knows to expect the call and answers quickly. Sid is curled up in his lap as much as a fully grown athlete can be, and he looks very much like he’s been crying. Ovi tries to turn around when he hears the call connect, but Nicke reaches out before he can and grabs his chin. “Your attention should be here,” he reminds him, and turns up the vibration setting on the plug. Ovi chokes off a groan, clearly wondering who is on the other end of the line, but his shoulders relax a little when he hears Geno’s distinctive laugh. 

“How was press, Sasha?” Geno asks, leaning forward towards the screen.

“You can answer.” Nicke says. “Go on, tell Geno and Sid what you asked me for today.”

“I ask,” Sasha breaks off, moaning and rocking down onto the plug. Sweat is beginning to bead at his temples, “I ask him to help me be better, to make up for lose. So Nicke - he lock me up, not let me come, but have plug in all morning for press. He keep turn up, for hard questions, so I can,” he whines, biting his lip. “Nicke, please!”

“Keep going,” Nicke says, bending closer and tracing the bitten-red of Sasha’s mouth. “Tell them what you said.”

“I say I not want to have key back until I earn it. Until I show I can be, self control.”

“He  _ say _ self control,” Geno says, one hand stroking absently over Sid’s ass. “But he riding the plug like he’s not in cage at all.”

“He’s working to earn my cock,” Nicke explains, running his hands down Ovi’s shoulders and sides like he’s gentling an over-eager dog. “Not even thinking of his own pleasure, are you, Sasha?”

“Please,” is all Sasha can manage, eyes glazed over with either tears or sweat, and Nicke relents, turning the vibration down to only a low buzz. 

“You can take it out,” he says, and Sasha dives forward, hands trembling with eagerness. They make quick work of Nicke’s fly and he hardly waits for the nod before he’s throat-deep around Nicke’s length, eyes fluttering shut and tension in his shoulders easing.

“How are the two of you?” Nicke strokes a hand through Ovi’s hair as he asks, watching Geno’s hand disappear into the crease of Sid’s ass.

“Grumpy,” Geno says teasingly, and Sid huffs at him, but doesn’t say anything to dispute it. “So he not allowed to talk until he can say nice thing.”

Nicke laughs. “All you have to do is get your dick in him. He’ll have plenty of nice things to say about that.”

Sid flushes dark red at that, but his mouth stays stubbornly shut even as Geno laughs. “Give him nice spanking earlier, so he know if we fuck, it hurt him a lot before he come.”

“I’ve heard a salt bath is great for sore muscles,” Nicke says casually, “Might want to try that first.”

Geno smiles, deep seas and the dying prayers of sailors in the creases of his eyes. “Or maybe I like it when he hurts.”

Whether at the words or because of whatever Geno is doing with his fingers, Sid lets out a sharp cry, and with his mouth still full of Nicke’s cock, Sasha looks up. Nicke looks down at him and makes a quick decision. “Lube,” he says, pulling Sasha off his dick. “I want to fuck you.”

Ovi frowns. “I still have lots -”

“Not an option.” Nicke raises his eyebrows. “Go.”

Grumbling, Sasha obeys, walking the whole ten feet to the closest bathroom like every footfall is a personal slight to his divinity.

Nicke keeps both hands on Sasha as he lowers himself onto Nicke’s cock but his eyes on where Geno is bent over Sid, smoothing hands down Sid’s flanks like he’s soothing a wounded animal. They all hate to lose. They wouldn’t be playing hockey at the level they are if they didn’t. But both Sid and Sasha take it personally, like the entire weight of the franchise is enough to put them in shallow graves if they don’t perform to expectations. It’s something the two of them share that makes for an underlying understanding that bonds them despite outward differences. 

Geno’s temper is historic, both as a god and as a hockey player, so there’s plenty of precedent for how he blows up and then it blows over like a storm at sea. Sid  _ will _ wallow, if you let him, but the bright red ass is plenty of indication that Geno isn’t letting him. As for Sasha - Nicke fists a hand in his hair and drags him down for an open mouthed libation - he, too, will be fine. Nicke will see to that.


End file.
